


Torch

by Wicker



Series: Reader Inserts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Benny Lafitte, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicker/pseuds/Wicker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first piece of reader-insert fiction. There isn't enough Benny Lafitte in this genre, so I decided to make some of my own. </p><p>Reader is an experienced hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torch

Benny had something that smelled like caramel cooking in the kitchen but he'd made you promise to let him surprise you for some sort of imaginary occasion.

He was clunking around with uncharacteristic violence. "Couyon." He muttered, and slammed the oven shut. Benny walked briskly out of the kitchen and into your garage. He was still wearing his chef's apron when he walked back in, now with goggles across his brow, and acetylene torch and tank behind him.

Your raised eyebrows made him stop before returning to the kitchen, and while he licked his lips and searched for the right thing to say, you stopped cleaning your Beretta. "I didn't even peek, Benny," you said with a smirk.

"Oh I know, darlin."

"Why are you stealin' my blowtorch, hmm?"

"Because, Y/N, the little hand one is outta juice." Benny's mouth twisted into a wicked grin.

"Don't burn down my house, honey." You know he won't crack and tell you what he's really up to. He began to whistle as he sparked up the torch in the kitchen.

You'd been letting him stay in your cabin for the past six months, and had found yourself taking the hunts that kept you closer to home, where you knew you could always return to find an occupied bed and a hot meal. He kept the place tidy, and didn't ask too much, just a few pints of blood a week.

You finished cleaning the gun and put it back together with an automatic quickness that attested to years of experience. "Is dinner ready yet, Benny?"

"Go wash up." He said it from the kitchen, plates clinking.

You stuck the gun in your bag and went to wash your hands in the garage sink, checking your reflection in the small mirror hung there. You usually didn't give a shit about how you looked unless you had to doll up for a case, but Benny made you a bit more vain than usual, even though he never said much about your appearance other than him being unable to keep his hands off you.

Dinner was already on the table- and dessert was there too. A crème brûlée situated beside a plate of spinach and a small steak. "Jesus, was that why you needed the torch?"

"Oui." He sat down across from you at the small table, and picked up his wine glass. He smirked. It was his blood of course, and he liked to put it in a cup or glass so he’d feel a little less strange drinking it.

You picked up your own, which was actually full of merlot, and took a sip before cutting up your steak.

He smiled and sat back in his chair. It was nice, the way he'd slipped so easily into a domestic role around you, not making any assumptions about his place, just making the space he occupied seem more and more like his home. Without him you avoided this place; it was so empty that you couldn’t sleep most of the time.

You sank your teeth into the steak and chewed, then stopped to savor the taste. "Holy shit." You murmured and moaned.

The vampire grinned over the rim of his glass. "Good, sugar?"

"Yeah... now I'm sad because it seems so small."

"Mmn. Maybe later I'll fill you up."

A blush rose in your cheeks. "Goddamn it, Benny." You still grinned and took another bite. He never tasted what he made, but he was still the best chef in the state despite it. You moaned and cut off another bite.

As you progressed through your meal and started to pick at the salad, you noticed his stillness and the unnerving, quiet, and hungry stare he'd fixed on you. You paused and cleared your throat, watched as his expression unclouded.

"Yeah, darlin?"

"Benny, you're looking at me like I'm your next meal."

"Y/N, the sounds you're making are driving me out of my dang mind." He reached down to adjust himself, keeping his eyes on yours.

You licked your lips and started to dig in for another bite when he suddenly moved. He pulled you out of your chair and down onto the floor, and settled his weight on top of you. You could have taken him in a fight, and your steak knife was in your hand- but he groaned against your neck and licked your jaw carefully, stubble teasing the soft skin. His hands immediately detoured to your hips and gripped your thighs, pulling at your jeans.

"Christ," you gasped and stabbed the knife into the worn pine floorboards.

You shuddered softly when he yanked your jeans down and pulled them past your knees and ankles. Benny shoved your shirt up and kissed your belly, which made you squirm and clench your jaw, but as soon as he pulled your knees apart and lifted your thigh over your shoulder, it became obvious where this was going.

He pressed his palm to your ass and lapped hungrily at your folds, his lukewarm tongue flicking your clit too quickly.

"Shit, Benny, too soon!" Your back arched and you squeaked. He mouthed an indecipherable apology and worked a finger gently inside you as he moved his mouth much more gently, slowly lavishing attention up and down your slit.  

You heard as his pants unzipped and knew that he had wrapped his hand around himself. He sucked softly at your clit and you whimpered.

"Darlin', I can't wait. Got to be inside you."

"Fuckin' please." You panted, face turned into the crook of your elbow.

"So polite, Y/N." He pushed your leg up to your chest and pulled your other thigh around his hip, taking a moment to grind his stiff cock against your throbbing folds before slipping inside and sinking in to fill you.

He was never as warm as a mortal man, but he made up for it with his miles of experience. He nibbled at your calf as he fucked you slow, lazily moving his hips in a persistent rhythm. He dug his fingers into your hips and groaned as you reached down to run your hand up his chill side.

Soon he let your leg down to join the other as you twined them like a vise around his middle, and Benny spread his knees for more leverage, bending down so you could drape your arms over his shoulders and scratch as he picked up speed.

You were making a lot of noise, your tough exterior flushed and full of boiling tension. You opened your mouth, kissed his neck, nipping at his cold skin and sucking hickeys in to muffle your cries.

Benny was grunting as he fucked you on the floor, and you counted that as a real victory. He could probably feel you squeezing around him with every thrust- you were close.

He suddenly pushed your hands flat above your head and held your wrists together in one hand, using his other to massage your clit between his hard, exacting thrusts.

You groaned his name and went rigid under him, muscles seizing around his solid length. The only sound of breathing was yours, and yet it roared in your ears.

He choked back a cry, and almost sounded like he was in pain and bowed his head to your chest. He was throbbing inside of you, hips still.

You gulped and pulled your hands down to softly pet his hair. "I didn't even get to the dessert."

He pulled out tortuously slow, and kissed your hand before sliding down to nibble and lick at the insides of your thighs. "Neither did I."

As his tongue parted and lapped at you hungrily, You smiled and closed your eyes. Good thing that crème brûlée was supposed to be served at room temperature anyway. 


End file.
